Plymouth

The next logical port East of Falmouth is Plymouth.

The weather forecast called for rain and gale force (up to Force 8) West winds....perfect day to get out in the channel and blow on down the coast.

I called for the main to be raised and Bill Lowe asked whether I planned to put it all up, actually he asked that a few times.

Having a bit of a racer background and knowing it was a downwind sail, I said yes.

It's taken me a while to learn about “British Understatement” (a downpour in a gale might be referred to as a “spot of inclement weather”!).

And it took me a bit to understand that Bill was really saying “only a bloody fool would put up a full main under these conditions!” (he's from a background that precludes the use of “wanker”).

I think Americans have had some success because they actually “say” what they are saying, over here apparently that's considered rude.

Anyway, we pulled the main and put out a bit of genny, then reduced that to a handkerchief and shot down the coast at 7 knots.

Had I had my wits about me (I was still getting over being over served the prior evening by my own hand) it was a perfect day to run the storm jib...oh well, I'm sure I will have the same circumstances before I leave these waters to make the correct call.

We rolled (literally) into Plymouth in the late afternoon and pulled into a marina that Armando had stayed at previously.

Beautiful spot, with a set of yacht building and service facilities (maybe time to get the tranny fixed?), a sailing center (more on that later) and a sailing school.

Armando and I were looking for a spot to spend up to 2 weeks, to sort things out on the boat, recoup (lick our wounds?) and obtain Yachtmaster certification...perhaps we'd found the spot!